


Dog Days

by partingxshot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partingxshot/pseuds/partingxshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rose and Kanaya do summer things and buy a nice hat.</p><p>“I don’t believe I would be remiss in implying, if you are willing to brave the incidental witticism, that you have a shine about you.” She grabs Kanaya’s hand.</p><p>“Clever,” Kanaya says. “We will pretend that didn’t just come out of your mouth.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless, self-indulgent slice of life-ish fluff and unnecessary clothing descriptions. There is neither plot nor porn here. Why would you even read this.

The opposing cliff face is crumbling just slightly. Tiny rocks not yet covered in a thick layer of moss litter its base, a small sweep of damp earth before the water. The ground drops off sharply, forming an enclosed pool surrounded by trees and the sound of shrill bugs. The surface is either splashing and spitting restlessly (near the small waterfall on the northeast side) or moving in gentle ripples downriver, teasing the edges of lily pad clumps.

Kanaya touches the fraying rope hung from the tree above her, coated in years of dirt, and looks down to judge the distance.

“It was really one of her most half-hearted gestures,” Rose says. Kanaya doesn’t have to look back to picture the way she crosses her arms. “Despite her habit of apocryphal indulgence, she and I both knew that I was more comfortable inside reading questionable literature than flitting barefoot through the Adirondacks.”

“Still,” she replies, tugging. “It seems stable enough.”

Rose’s sigh sounds terribly put-upon. “The adrenaline rush isn’t much, compared to being a savior and/or destroyer of worlds.”

Kanaya turns to face her, already smiling. Rose rests her weight on one leg, looking expectant.

“If you don’t mind, I’d still like to give it a try. Coming from a culture that revolves around survival and hiding during daylight, the concept of a whole range of activities solely set aside for intense heat sounds highly attractive.”

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Rose says with a rueful shake of the head.

“Shopping,” Kanaya responds.

 

The mall is packed tightly as overheated humans escape into the air-conditioning. Kanaya entertains herself as they walk by examining outfits quite thoroughly; it’s strange not automatically being the brightest-dressed individual in any setting (except for Feferi, and in her case it isn’t a matter of taste). Most of the humans wear shorts or light dresses in varying degrees of style. At first she doesn’t feel out of place in her newest creation, but the way Rose subtly eyes her up and down is worrying.

“Am I dressed oddly?” she murmurs, examining the short violet dress. Sleeveless, tied at the back of the neck, accentuated by low silver heels. She thought it had been human-inspired.

Rose looks surprised. “Wrong word choice, though you _are_ incredibly out of place.”

Kanaya glances around uneasily but no one stares back, bound by an unspoken law of the reset universe. “How-”

“It’s your own fault for standing out so admirably in a crowd.” Her words turn slightly careful: “I don’t believe I would be remiss in implying, if you are willing to brave the incidental witticism, that you have a shine about you.” She grabs Kanaya’s hand.

“Clever,” Kanaya says. “We will pretend that didn’t just come out of your mouth.”

“Of course,” she replies, but there is some pride in her smirk and the squeeze of her fingers.

Kanaya pulls her into a store.

They try things on, carrying piles at a time into the dressing room and getting overexcited about color combinations. That might just be Kanaya, actually, but when Rose steps out of their stall with frizzed hair and a loose lavender blouse she seems to be enjoying herself quite a bit. Kanaya finds herself enchanted by a large floppy sunhat that Rose side-eyes warily.

“But this is a thing that humans wear? Human ladies?”

“Yes, although the style is somewhat dated.”

“Is this hypothetical ‘dating’ extensive enough that one could wear it out of irony?”

“Not quite; around here it’s now mostly the domain of women at least three times our age, starlets for whom the rules do not apply, and small children in frilled swimwear.”

“Are you sure, because I saw at least two women who weren’t much older than-”

“You really like the hat, don’t you.”

“I am quite fond of it, yes.”

“Far be it from my own inborn cynicism to prevent you from getting the hat, then.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just projecting your own inability to ‘work’ the hat?”

“Buy the hat, Kanaya.”

Eventually they get down to business and peruse the swimwear section. Kanaya is still a bit overwhelmed by the choices presented to her with no challenge. These are no spoils of war; they are practically gifts. She finds a lovely red bikini with detachable skirt, then promptly begins persuading Rose to buy a new suit of her own. She ushers her into the dressing room with a few options. Rose is perfectly capable of picking her own clothes, of course, but she demonstrated early in their friendship that she doesn’t mind a bit of dress-up. Kanaya mostly sticks to suits within Rose’s preferred range of moody colors, with one exception.

Rose calls her in to help tie the sky blue tankini. Startlingly bright, it dips dramatically in back, leaving little material above the skirted bottoms.

“I’m already concerned,” she says dryly, pressing one hand against her chest to hold up the fabric.

Kanaya’s fingers brush against her skin, skillfully lacing the tie beneath her shoulder blades with a tiny hum. “I don’t see why. You’re perfectly comfortable with bright pink.” She moves to the tie on the back of her neck, reaching over Rose’s shoulders to pull up the strings. If she moves more slowly than perfectly necessary, lingering over her chest, neither of them points it out.

“Different mindset entirely,” Rose says vaguely, pulling her hair up out of the way.

Kanaya pauses her tying to touch knuckles against neck. “I am prepared to be startled and amazed by the transformation.” She finishes the knot, then leans in to kiss the freckle just above her left shoulder blade, fingers pressed gently against her hairline.

Rose makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a snort. Kanaya regards this as affectionate.

As Rose turns Kanaya looks her up and down, taking in the artful cut of the skirt and the way the material hugs pleasantly against her hips. The color sets off the sheen of her hair in a way that is incredibly easy on the eyes, and despite her protests she looks pleased with herself.

Kanaya nods solemnly. “No arguments, please. Where did you say the bookstore was?”

They leave an hour later, weighed down with paperbacks. She punctures horn-holes in the hat and wears it on the way out, counting at least three more stylish ladies with similar ones. Kanaya has to say she wins this one.

 

Sunlight beats down through the treetops, creating shifting patterns on the high ground and the water below. Rose rubs sunblock over her arms, briefly peering over the edge before drawing back a ways. She is rather pale in comparison to many other humans; Jade says it’s because she spends so much time indoors, and Kanaya is inclined to believe her. It’s not that she looks out of her element, exactly; more that she is out of _context_ here in the forest half a mile from home, with nothing but sandals on her bare feet. She kicks these off presently, experimentally scrunching her toes in the thin grass.

She proves Kanaya wrong by taking a running start.

She swings out over the edge, releasing the rope only at the highest point of her arc, and for a moment she soars upward, pointed toes stretched out and up. Her momentum fails and she’s caught in the crossfire of puzzle piece sunlight, hair rising around her like a halo, suspended before the plunge. She falls neatly, hugging her legs to her chest, and the water sucks her down.

Kanaya leans over to watch as her head breaks the surface three seconds later. Rose looks up at her and smiles, the rest of her just visible beneath the ripples, sopping bangs just brushing her eyelids. She is absolutely beautiful, and the heat of the sun envelops Kanaya like a plunge.

She grabs the rope and swings out to meet her. In that moment before gravity, she remembers flight.

 

They repeat themselves endlessly, swimming circles around the pool then climbing up to jump again. The water is deep in the middle, enough that only the most laser-pointed entrances let them touch their toes to the bottom. They glide underneath, trying to find each other in the murk, catching each other’s ankles. Kanaya did not live by any large bodies of water, and the idea of swimming for pleasure is nearly unheard of, or at the least incredibly dangerous. Now it’s only the cool wet against the hot, dazzling air, and she takes deep breaths and stays under.

Sometimes she finds a frog blending among the lily pads, and the two of them sink stealthily into the water to their eyes and try to catch it for absolutely no reason at all.

They tread water in the center, turning slow circles around each other. Their slow-kicking legs brush and slide.

“It’s a wonder you don’t do this more often,” Kanaya says.

“It’s less fun alone,” Rose replies, and pulls her under by the waist.

 

They take the long way back, towels wrapped around their dripping bodies. Rose points out various species of plant and wildlife in a disinterested tone, more as Kanaya’s continuing Earth education than anything else, and Kanaya asks the names of flowers she thinks would look nice in the garden. The winding trail leads them up and down rocky hills and through scorching heat interspersed with areas of trees pressed close enough to block out much of the sun.

They pass the occasional group of hikers, most of whom greet them pleasantly. They look at Kanaya first with curiosity, then a universal glazed expression, then only normal, polite interest. It makes her nervous, especially when Rose decides to feel talkative.

“Yes, it is hot, isn’t it? We’re absolutely _glowing_.” Or: “It was like a baked alien planet around noon.” Or even: “My friend is fortunate in that she doesn’t burn. Being a _vampire from outer space_ makes it easy to avoid.”

She does this with the air of someone presenting a dare, and Kanaya pinches her arm more than once, but if anything the tourists only look slightly confused before going on with their hike.

“Why exactly do you feel the need to do that?” Kanaya unwraps her towel, resting it around her shoulders.

“I find it amusing to watch the universe work overtime to protect you.” The cooling effects of their swim are wearing off, and the shine on Rose’s forehead has at least partially turned to sweat.

“A great deal more faith in the universe than I would expect from you.”

“Not exactly,” she replies, quirking her lips into an expression that once brought terror to the hearts of her consorts. “I just find the idea laughable that their awareness of your presence would pose any trouble for those of us who have fought gods.”

“You find the irrational need to tempt fate, even outside of the game.” She does her best to look annoyed.

“I am easily bored.”

Rose picks up a long stick left propped up out of a ditch, presumably by a hiker, and uses it as a cane. She explains enthusiastically that the image of a classic human wizard often includes a trusty carved walking stick. They spend the rest of the walk inventing dialog for two weary shamans, searching through a dark wood for the land of their ancestors.

 

As soon as they’re home they go straight to the kitchen to make lemonade. They only have instant packs, but the taste is tart and cool and the ice clinks pleasantly against the glass. Kanaya has to say she approves of this essential human summer tradition.

They take the glasses outside with some dry towels and a book apiece. Kanaya wears her new hat.

“You certainly are immersing yourself in culture today,” Rose says as she spreads her towel on the grass. “We have probably covered every stereotypical summer human experience except for a beach trip with a boombox, and maybe a game of pick-up volleyball.”

Kanaya lies down opposite her, feeling the pleasant waves of sunlight against her bare back. “I am in a unique position among my friends to experience these things,” she says with a reasonable tone. “What’s volleyball?”

Rose laughs quietly and kneels, dipping her head awkwardly under the brim of Kanaya’s hat. Their lips brush together peaceably, then she scoots back to lie down fully, resting her cheek on her hand.

Kanaya pulls off the hat and leans her forehead against Rose’s. “Thank you for suffering my curiosity,” she says, a smile in her voice.

“Only if you suffer mine,” she replies, eyes unsubtly tracing the cut of Kanaya’s bikini.

Kanaya presses a finger to Rose’s smirk, then quickly replaces it with her own lips.


End file.
